


The Tea Kettle Days

by generictripe



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Betrayal, Coffee Shops, Gen, Loss, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generictripe/pseuds/generictripe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The owner of a coffee shop lovingly titled 'Bag End' , Bilbo Baggin's is satisfied with his life for the most part. He has everything he needs. A warm hearth. Faithful customers. Several potted flowers on each windowsill. With all these comforts, the dear man feels something is still missing. But when a hurricane on the form of an old family friend comes to town ,will he rise to the challenge and find in himself something 'Tookish' or sink back into the mundane life of a small business owner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Proposition of Sorts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Before we start ,there is something you must know. This is a 'coffee shop' AU. But it is not _just_ that. You'll see. Anyway. This fanfiction borrows from both the movie canon and the book canon. However, it will focus on the book simply because the book is finished and the movies..are not. That is pretty much it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's life is one of comfort. But how long will it last when Gandalf has pegged him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am sorry for the slow paced chapter. Exposition and all that!
> 
> Recommended [listening](http://youtu.be/SeAgLIaHj0M) for this chapter.

The worse things come at the sound at an alarm clock in the morning. It is even worse when the digital clock face reads the wrong time. Bilbo Baggins shot up like a light. The clock on his bedside table blinked on and off. 

There must have been a power outrage,he observed. Letting out a sigh through his nose, the stout man settled back into his pillows. There was a nagging on his mind. A tug pulled at the edges of his thoughts and dissolved like mist into the air. He had had a dream. If you could call it that. It was more of a nightmare really. The vision of a terrible red dragon ,curled on a pile of gold sent shivers down his spine. How unnerving.. 

Drowsy-eyed and sluggish in his patchwork robe, Bilbo fumbled around his kitchen. The flat was small, with brick walls and hard wood flooring. A large fireplace took up most of the sitting room. It was more of a hole than a dwelling ,really. A small chuckled bubbled in his throat at that half formed thought. A man that lived in a hole.

But this 'hole' was something he loved. From the cheerily green door to the flowers sitting on the windowsills. Bilbo stifled a yawn as he stood over the stove. Sausage popped from the skillet in front of him with a sharp happy sound. If there was one thing he was good at...it was cooking. The patrons to the Bag End coffee shop were well aware of that. People rushed in at the wee hours for a taste of his spiced bacon or earthen colored mugs of tea.

With a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him,he skimmed the previous day's paper. Oh dear. There was some mess in the Misty Mountains area with some crazy person called Gollum. Of course that was all rumors. and was far to the east. He needn't worry about lunatics that live in caves. Bilbo studied the article with only half of his attention. He was almost late to open up the store. And that would do no good!

With a clatter of an enormous ring of keys and lots of nervous mumbling, the man was off. He padded down the stairs of the apartment complex, over sized shoes echoing through the halls. They say with big feet some success. Well, Bilbo would be inclined to agree. He was very wealthy for a man of the Shire.

Bag End was nestled between an antique store and a flower shop. Both place who's owners enjoyed the advantages of being placed next to a successful cafe. The flower shop lady, a beauty with curled hair by the name of Bell had provided each of the flowers in Mister Baggins' flat. And he could not pretend to very much like the lady. But his head laid else where in a stack of books and coffee cups. 

Bilbo rounded the corner that separated his flat from Bag End. Miss Bell was outside her shop, the summer morning sun playing off of her pin curls. "Miss Bell,"he called, throwing up a hand,"You are up pretty early. I thought your shop did not open until noon!"

She turned,smiling at him. From behind her a boy popped his head out. He had his father's mess of dark hair and round face. Little Hamson Gamgee. Of course, he was gone in a flash, much like small children do in moments of shyness.

"Oh yes,"Bell laughed, watching her son dart away,"But Hamfast insisted we get an early start. And of course it agreed just as well with Hamson. Though I can't believe him now. Usually he is more outgoing." Tiny blue eyes shined out from behind a display of roses at Bilbo. 

The man said,"I know. I must be as frightening as a dragon to that poor boy." At the mention of 'dragon' his dream came flooding back to him ,be he did not let it show. Instead the stocky man threw up a hand to bid her fare well and entered his shop.

The little establishment was modestly laid out. A smooth cheery wood counter stood on the far side, obscuring the mini kitchen area from the hungry patrons. Half a dozen tables where situated in a neat row. The cozy atmosphere could almost be tasted out of the air from brown mugs.

Bilbo stood at the counter of the cozy coffee shop. Behind the counter he was in his element. All the people in the small town of Bag End knew him for his little establishment. They could recognize the shock of brown hair and twitchy gait at once. And he served them warm drinks that came straight from his soul and topped with foam.

It was a slow morning ,however. The sleepy town had obviously taken a clear vote to hit the snooze button a few times too many that morning. To occupy himself,Mr. Baggins begun to puff on his long pipe. It was quite a sight to be seen of one too! It was a nice red color and long for a person of his size. 

Breathing in ,he let the spicy tobacco swim on his tongue before letting it all out in rings. If there was one thing he was proud of,it was his smoke rings. And his throwing ability. And his expensive collection of maps from ages past. Oh...well let's just say Bilbo was proud of a many of his things.

It was around that time, the jingle from the door announced the arrival of his first customer of the day. He looked up from the smoke rings to meet the piercing eyes of a man. Now this man was extraordinary for many reasons ,but the first one Mr. Baggins noticed was his incredibly long beard. Dressed in normal clothing (a contemporary button up and slacks), the long expanse of white was a bit of a shock. It was almost as if someone had stuck a mass of fur with spirit gum onto a business man on his day off.

Short Bilbo,pipe in hand, smiled at the new patron,a bit ruffled by his appearance. "Good morning,sir!" He leaned over the counter expectantly. The business owner in him very much wanted to make sure it _was_ a good morning to the newcomer.

But the man knitted his eyebrows at the eager Bilbo and began a tangent that started like this,"Whatever do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not..." The Baggins' stomach dropped to his shoes was he listened to the stranger go on and on. What an ornery fellow!

"I suppose,all of those. ..erm..At once,"Bilbo said with an air of finality,"Well,sir. How may I help you? Our special today is the parsley chick-" The man puts a hand up,effectively silencing him. "No thank you,"he said,"I'd like a mug of strong coffee and a word."

"A _word_?" Bilbo set to making the coffee, his quick hands working almost without his knowledge. Why must this stranger want to speak with him? Once the mug is set on the counter and the money is clicked into the register with a _ding_ , he hoped this man would get on with whatever he had to say. It was a difficult business indeed,being polite to someone who was being so ...odd.

"I'm looking for a Bilbo Baggins,"the man started,taking a sip of the drink,"And from your name tag and the fact you have your mother's nose indicates that you are indeed him. Am I right?" Mutely ,Bilbo nodded. "Yes, sir,"he said after a moment,"But why do you ask? I mean ,how can I help you?" He repeated the phrase that working behind the counter had beaten into him.

The man smiled. "I am looking for someone to share in the most prosperous of endeavors. " At that Bilbo perked up a little. Though he did not want for much, he did want to hear what this was. The man continued,"It could even be called an adventure of sorts. There is some knowledge of the aspects of business law needed. And my dear boy, you are Bilbo Baggins. I recall you went to law school."

 _Oh dear_ At once Bilbo was backing away from the counter, all the way to the wall. Law school. now that had been a nasty time in his life. The pressure mounted and he could not even finish his last semester. "Oh no ,sir,"Bilbo cried,stumbling over the words ," I expect you are looking in the wrong place. You should try beyond the river. I expect you'll find the right sort there. Now...erm good morning,sir."

With that, he turned from the man. He busied himself with making a cup of tea for no one in particular. Anything to take his mind from those fierce eyes. The tea was busy steeping in the mug,when he caught sight of the bearded man ,moving . "Are you saying good morning just to get rid of me,Mister Baggins?"  
Bilbo threw his arms up in the air with a groan. " _Sir_ ," he finally said,his voice coming out high like a tea kettle singing," I do not know your name, though you know mine well enough." The man seemed equally agitated. With a pound of his fist on the counter he , grimaces. "I am Gandalf and I am insulted you do not remember me. I know you well,my boy."

The quick temper that had flared up so quickly was extinguished at once. The color drained from his face as Bilbo stammered out," Gandalf? The storyteller? The fireworks? You used to stir up all kinds of fun- erm... _trouble_ in these parts. Bless me." At that the old man smiled,"At least I am remembered fondly enough. Now , I have a proposition of sorts."

The coffee shop owner was unmovable."No,"he argued,"I'm afraid I'm not the lawyer-ing sort!" After an hour or so of Gandalf's urging, Bilbo shooed him off and relaxed. There would be no talk of law school or propositions around him if he could help it.


	2. A Dozen Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tornado in the form of a dozen problems wrecks Bilbo's shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Here is chapter two. I hope you all enjoy it. I'm sorry it was such a long wait. From now on I hope to update every other Saturday or Friday. Hopefully.
> 
> Recommended [listening](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ReDUxkeUXCg) for this chapter.

The door was promptly shut against Gandalf's back. He stood for a moment, staring back into the glass. Through the transparent window,he clearly saw Bilbo busying himself with tying a dark green apron around his waist. 

The man was far from being the boy that Gandalf thought of him as. He was stocky, only coming up past the counter barely with a mop of curly brown hair and a bit of a gut. His age was not one of youth and spring. At the ripe year of fifty,Bilbo was far from the inquisitive youngster of years passed. But it was strange. To look upon the man was to stare at some sort of hidden spunk, bogged down by tea kettles and tedious reads.

With long fingers, the older man plucked a marker out of his jacket pocket. If the boy would not come easily then Gandalf would have to make him. A long swipe later , a dark mark stood against the dark green of the door. It was a manner of persuasion,this adventure would take. And this Mister Gandalf had just the thing in the form of some rowdy patrons.

The next day was the picture of a shining summer afternoon. Birds were chirping. Bees buzzed too and fro outside the Gamgee floral shop. There was not a cloud in the sky as Bilbo Baggins sat on the front steps of his coffee shop,puffing on a pipe. It was an important day. Very important. Just how important was not lost on Bilbo. 

The pipe smoke grew sour in his mouth. He did not know whether to be pleased or not. His cousin's son was only a few months old. But Bilbo was not known for being able to stand the increased crying of a baby,even if this baby was the next generation of the Baggins family. The family of three had insisted on dropping by on there way on a trip and what could Bilbo say?

A little ways away a small boy was tossing and turning during the night. The boy already bared a shock of dark curly hair and am impish face. Little Frodo. His nephew. Today was the day he would move pass from seeing the child on the screen of a computer ,frozen in a smile. Though he would be a liar if he said he was not looking forward to it.

It was an hour later when the trio arrived. Bilbo was still on the step,pipe no longer lit in his mouth, rooted like ancient tree to the spot. His gut twisted itself into a knot as he rose to greet them. His cousin,Drogo was the taller. He stood like some sort of chubby marionette , large hands and feet extended as if with one false move he would come crashing to the ground. 

The beautiful pipe was pocketed as Bilbo held his hand out for the man to take. "Drogo. Long time no see. it was..last year's midsummer party ,am I right?" Drogo chuckled and refused the handshake for a tight hug,large hands patting Bilbo's back."Bilbo,"he said, booming voice startling some birds to flight from the shop's roof,"my cousin you sound so formal!' That was true. But Bilbo valued politeness over closeness and he was _really_ uncomfortable.

Fidgeting a little with his collar, he cast a glance to Primula. She held Frodo on her hip, radiating love from her very core. Bilbo's heart gave a little tug for reasons he could not pin down. Without registering what he was doing,he took a step forward ,toward the baby. Then ,freezing ,he remembered himself. "You must come in! It is dreadfully warm out here,"he spat out all of a sudden.

Like a dog herding sheep ,Bilbo ushered the trio into the coffee shop. There were few customers that day. All of them sat at tables and on the cushy armchairs in the corner, carrying conversations among the steam of nearly forgotten mugs. In a twitchy sort of motion, Bilbo asked the patrons if they needed anything. 

Little Frodo,now awake and bright-eyes stared in wonder at his uncle's movements,a thumb stuck in his mouth. It was quite a sight to see the twittering older man as he buzzed around the cafe,as if wings where stuck to his heels. The baby let out a happy sound, watching Bilbo come back. Chubby little hands reached out towards the huffing and puffing man.

Bilbo froze , taking in the sight of the little boy desiring his affection. _That_ might take some getting used to! Primula, laughing , placed the boy in Bilbo's frozen arms. "Looks like he has already taken a liking to his uncle,"she said, gently guiding his hands into the proper places around the boy. 

The pair ,Bilbo and Frodo , stared at each other. Bag End seemed to fall into silence around them. The boy grinned, a single front tooth shining. All rosy cheeks and chubby face, the boy looked like something of a curly-haired cherub. Bilbo,hesitant, returned the smile with one of his own. Frodo, pleased to see the funny old man smiling, grabbed at his nose. 

A loud noise of surprise escaped Bilbo.At once he took Frodo's hands in his free one. "Now my boy,"he said,"You cannot do around grabbing people's noses. It leaves a bad taste in their mouths. and isn't very polite." As if he understood, Frodo squealed. Bilbo turned to Primula. There was a light in her eyes,reflecting on the scene ,as if something she had thought was confirmed.

All at once the room's volume went back to normal. Mugs clinked against the wood table and laughter rang from one corner. Drogo, his hand in his pocket, leaned against the cafe counter. "Bilbo. We have something to speak to you about. And it would do you well to listen to the end." The usually jovial nature of his cousin dissolved into a serious glance towards his wife. She nodded once ,and took Frodo from Bilbo's arms.

Bilbo's eyebrows scrunched together. "What is this,"he asked. Drogo smiled,but it had lost his usual luster. "My cousin,"he continued,"You are the last of our kin. Well..the last of our likable kin." So that ruled out the Sackville-Baggins family. Drogo took a muffin from the counter, inspecting it without much desire. "And we, Primula and I would like for you to be the one to take Frodo. Whilst we ever pass before he is raised, that is. Would you be Frodo's godfather?"

There was a deathly silence between the group. For all except for Frodo, who was cooing into his mother's hair. It stretched across them. Even the patrons , eye glasses fogged from steam leaned closer with bated breath. Bilbo, for once drove mute and dumb, suddenly nodded. It was a slim chance that the boy would ever need to be taken in by him. After all, both Primula and Drogo were of the healthy sort. "Yes...I..I will."

The trio left soon after that, pleased as anything. They were shouting over their shoulders about sending Bilbo some papers later in the week. Little Frodo, laughing his head off extended his tiny hands towards Bilbo in a desperate attempt to hug his new godfather. The man was just relived to have it done and over with! It was very difficult to keep his head during just an abrupt question.

He scurried over to the green door, standing on tiptoes to stare out of the window . His cousin's family made their way to their truck. From his view , Bilbo could see the 'I'd rather be fishin' ' bumper sticker and it struck him as very American. Just about then ,he watched as the youngest of the Gamgee lot began waving and babbling at Frodo. How sweet.

Of course by then he had forgotten all about his strange visitor the day before. Bilbo Baggins had a habit of that. If he did not write something down in his day planner he was always bound to forget it. And the excitement of the afternoon did nothing to improve his memory. In fact as the work day winded down , there was little thought of tall bearded men. 

His employee for the day, a girl with round steel rimmed glasses was breathing heavily in the steamy air. She had been working like a dog all day. Or to what it seemed like to her. Really she was not much of a star employee. She much preferred to sit at a computer and type away. And she knew this about herself. Her pride laid in her self awareness.

So when Mister Baggins (A.K.A. The most laid back boss in Shire) dismissed her early that night, she was practically giddy. There was a distinct spring in her step as she untied the mustard yellow apron from her waist. "Thank,mister boss man,''she squeaked,"rushing out of the door with a ding.

Bilbo was busying himself with the dishes when she flew out. "Have a good night,"he called over his shoulder ,without really looking. If he had, he would have saw a stout man with bluish stubble gazing around the cafe from under a green hood. A violin case hanged from his hand, rather tightly. There seemed to be and air of deliberation about him. If this man did something , he did it with all of his heart. 

A few minutes passed before our protagonist ventured out from the kitchen, nearly running into the newcomer. "Oh goodness,"Bilbo squeaked out, stepping back. A hard lump formed in his throat. This man did not look like a robber. Could one smuggle an ax in a violin case?

But there was no ax. Quite the opposite. The man sat down heavily at a table. Sweat began to pool on Bilbo's forehead. "Sir? How can I help you? Can I get you something?" His voice comes out higher than he'd like and he clears his throat. The violin-man almost _glares_ to Bilbo , but it was probably how he looked at everyone. "Coffee. Black."

He swallowed and set to making the coffee, watching the new man over the counter. He was tall. Not quite so tall as Gandalf ,but was sure taller than Bilbo. He held himself broodingly and expectant. What was it that this man was waiting for? For the first time but certainly not the last ,he wished that he had not let his helper go home early.

Dwalin, for that was the 'violin-man' 's name ,was waiting for the others. They were late. Or was it that he was early? No matter. His brother would be here soon. And until then he'd just wait. He glanced to the little fidgety man at the counter. Was that the Mister Baggins that Gandalf had spoke so highly about? Bullocks. He looked more like a cafe shop owner than a lawyer of the sneaky variety. They'd just have to see.

Half an hour later Bilbo was contemplating homicide. There were around a dozen stocky men squeezed into his cafe. All of them had pulled the tables together into on long one in the middle of the floor. That would not have been so bad. He _did_ have enough chairs. They were exacerbating the situation with their..erm..rowdy behavior.

The cafe owner was at wits end. To and fro he went. Mugs and bowls clattered to the tables and floor. A man wearing a purple button up (Nori) had taken out a flute and was playing a lively tune. Bilbo scurried around,watching as his coffee shop was turned into some sort of party. The group seemed to move as on chaotic monster. A dragon with curved claws,wanting to swallow him.

Somewhere along the way Gandalf had strolled in. Now he grabbed Bilbo in a tight grip,leading him around his own cafe. Name after name flew from the old man's mouth. Each one of them men. Their names ran together and Bilbo was doubtful that he'd ever remember them all.

There was murmurings among the group every now and then. Bilbo caught a name and that was it. _Thorin_. _Oakensheild_. What a strange surname... A shiver went up his spine at that. Even the name exuded power and promise. It was the way it was said by the men. With respect and..something else.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the youngest man. He looked no older than eighteen and had dark hair, slicked back into a modern cut. His brother stood next to him,blowing steam off the top of a cup of tea. Fili and Kili , respectively. "Mr. Boggins,"the dark haired one said and Bilbo groaned inwardly,"Can I get a banana nut muffin?" 

Bilbo was just about to tell him where exactly to stick the muffin when the green door (now ruined by a old man's stray marker) opened. He pushed passed the largest of the men (a red-head named Bombur) to get a better view. 

Before him ,stood the namesake of that strangle title. He knew at once who this man was. Thorin was tall, with dark hair . There was something about his face that resembled Kili and Fili. Bilbo guessed that they were related in some way. But what really stood out was his posture. He held himself like a king,even though his worn silver dress shirt was the opposite of kingly.

At once Gandalf was at Thorin's side. Though silence had fallen upon the group,he could not hear what the two men whispered back and forth. Though when they oth looked to Bilbo, he felt his blood run cold. Did this have something to do with that lawyer business?

Before he could make a mad dash to the bathroom,Thorin was holding a hand out for Bilbo to shake. "This must be our lawyer,"he said as Bilbo took his hand. The handshake was firm and brief. The dark eyes followed the contours of Bilbo's face. He could almost feel the _burning_ from their intense gaze.

Without looking away,Thorin said ,"Are you sure he is up for the trials,Gandalf?" The older man opened him mouth to say something when Fili and Kili appeared as if by magic by Thorin's elbow. "Yeah, he seems a little green,"Fili said,rubbing his long nose. And they were right. The thought of having to get up and fight in a trial was making his head spin. In fact his face was becoming quite a bit green at the thought. The men talked some more and Bilbo caught a few words.

Before anyone could say a word, Bilbo was leaning over the sink in the bathroom. Bile built up in his mouth as he retched. The thought of being in front of everyone, the whole case riding on him... _No._


End file.
